Page 43 of Beneath the Desert Bloom
“Oh—fuck—”
Her thoughts broke apart into sound. Whimper. Moan. Shiver. Her body rocked into him, and he let her grind against his tongue, let her ride it like he wanted her to own him.
His hands gripped her thighs tighter now, holding her in place like she might vanish otherwise.
He groaned into her when she moaned his name.
He focused on her clit, the tip of his tongue working in soft pulses, alternating pressure and drag, stroking her like he was learning her rhythm in real time.
She moaned. Loud. Helpless.
And then his hand moved back to her breast, under her shirt now, cupping it bare. His thumb circled her nipple with rough reverence. Every flick sent heat straight to her core.
Her legs began to shake. Her breath turned ragged.
The ridges of his tongue pressed again and again, more precise now, rubbing back and forth, sending hot spirals of pleasure down her thighs, up her spine, to the tips of her fingers.
She wasn’t ready. And she couldn’t stop it.
“I’m—oh god—I’m—”
And when he flattened his tongue and pulsed it forcefully against her clit, she shattered.
The orgasm slammed into her.
Not a build. A break.
Her hips bucked up into his mouth. Her thighs clamped around his head. The world went white behind her eyes. Herback arched off the couch, body shaking, and she cried out, raw and open, pulsing against his tongue while he kept working her through it.
He groaned low in his throat.
The sound of it vibrated against her and she came again, just a little, a spillover of pleasure she couldn’t contain.
She collapsed into the cushions, gasping, legs slack. Her skin felt electric. Her pulse stuttered behind her ribs. Her orgasm had left her shaking, open, wrecked
And still, he didn’t stop.
Asher stayed between her legs, like she hadn’t given him everything yet.
He licked her again, softer now, slower. As if he were tasting her, savoring her, committing her to memory.
Nora whimpered. Her body jolted with each pass of his tongue, oversensitive but wanting more.
His mouth moved lower, a subtle shift.
And then, she felt his inhumanly hot and huge tongue press against her entrance.
She gasped, hips twitching, pressing toward him for more. She wanted to feel him inside her, to scratch the itch that had started the day she came back to the desert.
He groaned as he continued to press into her in one long, slow push. His tongue was not human in the slightest, but somehow perfect.
It was deep, thick and slick and pulsing in rhythm, and the ridged underside rubbed against her walls like nothing she’d ever felt, like they were designed to find the spot she didn’t even know existed. She moaned, her hips jerking, the stretch of it making her legs shake.
No one had ever touched her like this. No one had ever been like this.
“Oh—fuck—Asher—what are you—”
He didn’t answer. Just groaned into her, and she felt it echo through her core, low, deep, and shuddering. Like the sound alone could make her come apart.
